


False Starts

by ice_cream_assassin



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_cream_assassin/pseuds/ice_cream_assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt: Chloe and Nick! So I think they maybe my new ship!! They were totally checking each other out at this meeting ;) Someone needs to write a fic :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A friend on tumblr posted a few prompts on the meme requesting Nick and Chloe. 
> 
> I've been in a slump so another friend and occasional writing partner offered to help me fill them. In the end, it turned into a flowery prose competition and each of the fills we worked on had a very similar feel so it made sense to group them together.

She poured him a glass of water. Nine in the morning was too early for the painful and at times unnecessarily vicious examinations by the select committees. Their fingers brushed as Nick accepted the flimsy plastic cup. She pulled back, not wanting to acknowledge the brief jolt that shot through her. Chloe looked away fumbling with her own cup and the water pitcher. He began talking with his hands and started biting his bottom lip, like he does when he concentrates on the questions being posed. She gulped the water. Why is it always the Lib Dems? Why can't she like a nice Tory boy? 

++

The recess passed quickly and soon enough they were reunited again to square off against the Lords committee. Chloe is slowly finding a new admiration for Clegg and his sad features. There are whispers of a coup forming among his party. Her backbenchers love to savage the man. She thinks he must be a glutton for punishment after he tells her that he plans to answer questions on a weekly radio show. Through it all, Nick still has determination to push for reforms. Even if Chloe and the Lords Committee aren’t entirely sure about the way he is trying to achieve it.

He caught her doodling one of the lords on her notepaper during the committee meeting. They smile together and Nick complimented her after the meeting. 

“Should have sketched some devil horns too.” He joked. His wide grin, adding that sparkle to his eyes inspired her. Chloe could see how so many were able to get swept up in the heady days of Cleggmania. She wanted to pick up her charcoal and capture a moment of him. “What is it?” 

“Would you mind posing for me? I’m a little out of practice, but I would like to try to sketch you.” She did not expect such an eager sounding ‘Yes’ as a response. Nor did Chloe expect the warm fluttery feeling at Nick’s agreement. 

++

Nick does casual dress well. It is the first thought that comes to mind when he shows up at her flat on the designated evening. Chloe greeted him in baggy sweatpants and an oversized green sweatshirt. The collar is too large for Chloe's frame and slips revealing a pale shoulder. She catches him looking at the exposed skin and pre-empted the conversation with "I've already put the kettle on." Nick nodded as Chloe apologized for only having Lapsang Souchong in the cupboards. 

She told him to get comfortable in an armchair that looked like it had seen better days. She prepared for and was relieved that Nick refrained from making any snide comments about Chloe’s former boss and his family business. She posed him with one arm across his thigh, with the other draped over the chair’s arm. 

She chose the firmest piece of charcoal from her box. It had been years since she had done life sketching, but the charcoal was a familiar presence between her fingers. She outlined his pose, aware of his eyes watching her intently. With the basics down, she reached for her well-worn shammy, concentrating on smudging shadows and midtones. This is familiar, the sensation of getting lost in the work. Chloe’s eyes roamed over Nick as her charcoal filled in the page. His strong jaw, the shadow of his jutting collarbone, the slight curve of middle-aged paunch. Her cheeks flushed as she caught the bulge in his jeans, now suddenly aware that not only her breathing, but his breathing too, had become rapid and shallow. Her tiny flat fizzled with eroticism building between them. 

She set the sketch aside, crossing the floor to him. Nick studied her with a curious half smile, standing up and meeting Chloe half-way. She brushed her fingers across his cheekbones and jawline, marking Nick with her charcoal covered fingertips. Their lips grazed, not a kiss, but almost. 

"What number am I?" her fingers slid down his chest, over his stomach and settle on his belt buckle; more soft charcoal marred Nick’s shirt. "32? 33?"

He should answer twelve, but Nick is feeling smug, high on the thrill that Chloe wants him. "What number do you want to be?"

She flashed a coy grin and tugged on one of his trousers' belt loops. A signal to move and to continue this in her bedroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt: What happens under the table at meetings? What happens when they go for a drink? What happens in Nick's office? Basically anything Nick and Chloe would be awesome XD

He wanted to amend his greeting with, “Welcome to the Cabinet Office. Where careers go to die.” Nick can’t help but cover his inner grimace with a smile. He thinks there is something of the truth in his light internal jesting as he re-introduced Chloe to Maude and Letwin. Where careers go to die, it could be funny if the joke did not include him as well. 

+++

“Ready to go?” 

“Not another committee?” Chloe groans and gathers her bag. 

“This time we’re visiting the Lords.” 

“Yippee.” 

Each time Nick expects the committees to go a little smoother. Half way through the Coalition’s term he would think that he would become more accustomed to the intense questioning. This time Chloe is there. Not just silent, but there. Answering questions. She speaks and Nick feels charmed. Impressed and flattered. 

Falling implies a descent as flying implies an ascent. Both actions are effortless and then comes the inevitable smack into the ground. So it goes for politics. Nick feels the need to apply it to matters of the heart. Chloe grins and fumbles pulling apart the plastic cups on the table for water. He reaches for the water pitcher and fills the two cups. He feels breathless when their fingers graze against each other during the exchange; a static shock travels along the nerves in his arm. Nick can not place when or how it happened. He is falling and flying for the girl. 

+++  
"Sometimes I think you are as yellow as your party's colours." Chloe's chastisement sounds half-hearted and full of exhaustion from dealing with the likes of Bone and Davies and all of Nick's other favourite backbench Tories. 

"Do you really think it would have made things better if I were on the bench with you?" 

They begin walking. Things feel blurry and cold and sad. She is close and her words sting. The negativity does weigh on him and for the strangest of reasons, he wants to open up. He can't look for allies in his own party, they are busy scouring Nick for any weakness. They are poised to depose him but he assumes nothing will happen until 2015. Friends are in small supply. 

"I'm sorry." 

"Shall I auto tune that for you?" She smirks and they pause on their journey to the tube station. They stand under a lamppost on this winter’s night. Chloe huddles under the layers of her jackets and scarves. Their breath blossoms out into the dark. 

She meets his stare and they stand off in a motionless dance. His sadness and disappointment in everything and their hands clasping together reveal more of his intimate self than his words ever could. "I am sorry. You probably think I'm not any better than George letting you get savaged by Paxman." 

He finishes talking and Chloe tugs Nick closer. "You're nothing like him." Her lips are then against Nick's and they speak her understanding of him.

+++

Fluid, flying, falling into Chloe's bed. She is already in it, laying on her side. The blankets cover her nude body. She watches Nick undress. He slides under the covers. Here there is no clothing. No tables. No committees or despatch boxes. No desks or duty or party lines.

Heavy, breathless, feather light, he moves closer to her. Nick touches Chloe's skin, then her shoulder, arm and spine. Thirty, twelve, Chloe feels like the first. His fingers trace her delicate lines and curves. She lays on top of him, mimicking his gentle touches. Her eyes look at him in the way he's always wanted to be seen in. They roll over and his cock presses against her thighs. "Can I?" 

"Yes." Chloe answers, pinching his arse. Nick exhales and moves between her legs. His head bows down into the crook of her neck. She is intoxicating as he slides inside of her and their hips writhe together finding a rhythm. Her breathy sighs and fingers digging into his arse chase his disbelief away. This is happening. He is with the girl. 

As he comes inside her, he feels her muscles spasm around his pulsing cock. They remain twined together in a sweaty, sticky mess. Her hands tangle in his hair pulling him in, trying to breathe him as Nick presses his mouth to hers. Falling-flying feels like this. Naked and wide open and there was not much sleeping to be had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt: Chloe is hot and so is Nick.. Plus Chloe seems to have a thing for the lib-dems someone needs to write some smut :D :D

“The way I see it, we can either just continue on as we are and ignore everything.” Nick made noises to clear his throat. 

“Or?” Chloe’s eyebrow arched. She was familiar with this formula. The recipe of wanting someone so badly, it could drive a person crazy. The blood boiled inside the veins just from the need of it. The key for this recipe of lustful disaster started with a nice base of attraction. And Nick is handsome enough, with his rare smiles and rough, throaty voice that lingered in the ears. 

“Or we can get dinner together.” 

And now was time for the addition of the next ingredient: a solid reason why things should not happen. _Danny, your best mate broke my heart. Let’s talk about this age gap and your three children. You’re too recently divorced. Think of the salacious headlines if Fleet Street caught wind of this. You’re my co-worker._ Really any of these reasons that raced through Chloe’s head should be enough to put a stop to this flirtation. 

Shouldn’t, can’t, a terrible idea… She lost count of how many times since September she and Nick had both uttered those words. 

Flimsy excuses and attraction combined and it seemed impossible to stop it from boiling over. Near impossible not to accept Nick’s dinner invitation. _We really shouldn’t, what would Danny think? I can’t. Our boss, the PM remember, will kill us for causing bad press. Our backbenchers will feud for the next hundred years._ She smiled, flattering herself and Nick too much. Their backbenches were already engaged in warfare for much more important and valid reasons. 

“Eight at Quirinalle.” Chloe accepted and watched Nick’s lips spread into a slow grin. 

**

Nick did not ask to return to her flat, but that did not change the fact that they left the restaurant’s cream color plainness of leather and limestone with their arms twined together. As they waited for the train, her head found his shoulder and his lips found her forehead. 

“That’s okay isn’t it?” His voice was a gravelly whisper in her ear and she shivered thinking of how he’ll sound later on in her bedroom, thinking of him giving her consent in every language he can speak. She whispered that to him and his reply in Dutch made Chloe’s knees feel wobbly. She wished she could say ‘Yes’ in a variety of ways. 

The train ride felt agonizingly slow, but they made up for it once they arrived at her flat. They stumbled over her threshold, her walking backwards as Nick stripped off her leather jacket. She can’t stop touching and kissing him; feeling stuck together and moaning as she attempted to tear the clothing off of his body. He grabbed her wrists and their breathing echoed around the flat’s entryway. The pause is enough to allow Chloe to guide them to her bedroom. 

The intensity of their lips mashing together and caresses returned. Their contact broke again just long enough to undress, for the quick wiggle of her skirt over her hips, to tug the shirt off of him. Once the clothing is tossed to the side, Chloe’s hands skimmed down Nick’s chest. Her palms felt the coarseness of his chest hair, her thumbs teased over his nipples, catching on the hardened skin. No one has ever made her this wet and judging by the firm press of Nick’s erection against her belly no one has ever been this hard for her. Two fools so blinded by desire. 

As they fell into the soft mattress, Nick stole her tongue into his mouth. He suckled her tongue hard and she felt the vibrations of his low moan. She arched against him, matching his low sound with one of her own. Nick bit her lower lip, sucking on it as he pulled back. His hands squeezed her breasts and roamed exploring her smooth body. His fingers played and teased over her clit as he rocked, frotting against her thighs. Desperate, breathy, ‘I wants’ and ‘I needs’ are exchanged. 

Chloe averted her gaze as Nick rolled the condom over his cock. It was a cross between a laugh and a sigh as he pushed inside of her. He groaned and bit her neck, she scratched down his back and pinched his arse. With each thrust he made soft grunting noises, his face a picture of concentration. She followed the slow, insistent throb of her clit, finding her rhythm and meeting Nick’s thrusts. 

She felt light headed, going limp against the pillow and her body pulsed with the rush of her orgasm. Her eyes were wide and watched Nick shudder as he came inside of her. For a moment he was still, arms shaking with bearing his weight. Suddenly he rolled away and collapsed next to Chloe, breathing hard. She thought that no one has ever been able to give her body such glorious relief


End file.
